|
|
Many ages have passed since the age of blood want and violence, yet the shriek for death has not quite faded in the village of Lyon. Rather, the people are still fascinated by the deadly act played between criminal and executioner. Naxieas, a young girl disguised as a boy, is caught between the people and the only family she has left. When the burden of killing falls onto her shoulders, how does she respond?
Hello and welcome to Naxieas' page. I hope you enjoy your romp through the information found here. If you would like to return to my userlookup please click on this link.
Thank you to both Smoothie and Zel for their help in coding this layout whether they did it knowingly or not. ;)
|
Name: Naxieas Meaning: Requiem Species: Kyrii Origin: Qasala |
Sign: Libra Occupation: Hangman Age: 8-23 Body: Waifish |
Father – Naxieas' father is the only living relative remaining from her family. He is a stocky and sturdy man who is slowly working his way through middle age. He is the area's executioner and performs his duty by means of hanging. Middle age isn't as easy as we know it to be now, during this story it means that he's getting to be fairly old and time is starting to wear on him. Regardless of life treating him harshly he does everything he can to help his young daughter grow into a proper young woman. However without a mother and with a constant need for her to assist him in his work, that proves to be difficult.
Anule – Anule was a young gypsy Naxieas chanced to meet during her childhood. His disposition lent itself in a sort of dare devil direction. He was always finding himself in some sort of mischief but regardless was still a kind soul. During his stay he managed to break easily through Naxieas' lady-like front and they had many an adventure together, from picnics to "invading" the local forest. Eventually the band of gypsies he was traveling with left the outskirts of town where they had been camped, taking him with them. It was a sad parting.
This character belongs to Mysticmagix.
The rope twanged loudly as it was pulled taut. Wood groaned in protest. Slowly, ever so slowly, the dead body of a man, toes pointed towards the ground, face masked with a white bag in shame, swung in smaller and smaller circles.
Rays of sunlight beat down on the cheering and then departing crowd, their blood yearning satiated for another day. Back to simple lives they went. Some were farmers, others merchants of foreign material, all human. Slowly the cobble work of the street emerged and the square, ringed by small shops and little houses, showed itself worn and old.
One last man remained, his wife tugged slightly on his arm willing him to leave. He stared unwaveringly like stone at the body hanging from the gallows. "He got what he deserved," he said loud and clear, and finally he gave in to his wife's urgings and left.
The apprentice watched the executioner release his clenched grip from around the wooden lever. A sigh escaped the man's chapped lips, the only visible part of his face not covered by a black hood and sweat beads slid down the sides of his face. The death dealer wiped the droplets away before he turned his portly body and headed down aged and familiar stairs. Behind him the young male who looked no more than thirteen followed suit. Halfway down the stairwell the boy stumbled and the man quickly reached out an arm sheathed in toughened muscle to stop his apprentice's fall towards the unforgiving earth. The quiet mumble of thanks responded to with silence.
A solemn quiet overtook the two as they retrieved the body from the noose. The hangman hoisted the brunt of the weight onto his shoulders while the young assistant with quivering hands, like leaves in a breeze, loosened the ring of rope just enough to pull it from around the criminal's neck.
Ya got it?" the older male asked.
A grunt came in reply and the full weight of the dead man fell on top of the executioner.
Guh!" he groaned, "A little more forewarning would be nice Nax…I mean son." He then took the body and placed it on the cart where the kid had been standing.
Hurriedly, the apprentice jumped down and dropped his cloudy brown eyes to the earth. His wide, peachy-pink rimmed mouth gaped with silent excuses.
The matching eyes of the older man softened at the corners as a result of seeing his child fidget. He swatted the slender and dust ridden hands clenching and unclenching in a blue tunic before he patted the boy on the head.
The younger male quickly swiped at a length of long auburn hair which had fallen from his cap and replaced it before any wandering eyes would have noticed. He looked back up at his father, face imploring.
It's alright love. Just be more careful next time," his mouth hardened a bit beneath an upper lip marked with salt and pepper hair, "Just because these are bad people doesn't mean we've gotta treat em as such after they be dead," he said soothingly. "Now come help me wash up this body so that we can get im offa our hands."
Ke Father," was the meek response.
Both walked to the front of the cart, the father taking the reins and leading the smoke-colored donkey while the child walked along coaxing the animal with a stick.
After they had completed their duty, they went home to their small cottage on the outskirts of town. Along the path home, the duo's fellow villagers caste their eyes to the dirt on the side of the road and refused to face the man and his assistant who gave them an enjoyable time with spilt blood. The hangman and his family were not celebrities for the deeds he performed. The other villagers would not stand to have such a vile creature, a murderer, among their ranks and thus banished him, along with his kin, to the edge of society.
They entered the cottage the door protesting squeakily as it swung to a stop. The young apprentice took off the tattered hat and black wig, a long copper-toned braid surrounded by wisps of floating hair fell from the top of her head, the end dangling at her mid-back. The hangman slumped into a wooden crooked chair and it teetered on its crooked legs. The girl sat herself across from him at the opposite end of a large clunky table. The table tipped slightly, lazily, in her direction as she placed her weight onto its edge. The round-faced girl stared at him. Her blueberry-colored eyes hooded with a tiredness that belied her age.
The red-rim-eyed man looked up at her as if he had only just noticed she had been sitting with him. "Naxieas. Would you mind getting me something to eat?"
Yes father." She stood and following his request and went into the dark kitchen. Light had faded by then and the only candle they had, stood on the table sending faint, looming shadows onto the walls. Naxieas felt her way to one of the cabinets where she opened it and felt with her fingers for food. Stray dried crumbs met and brushed along her fingertips before her hand bumped against something they had eaten the night before.
She brought back the leftover bread and placed the crusted and hardened food in front of him. He grabbed her wrist before she could fully pull away. Then he squeezed and pain traveled up her arm.
There's another tomorrow," he whispered harshly. She knew what another meant. There always was another, be it every week or every day. The request for death is never ending.
I can't do it," he continued his eyes hollow then they widened slightly. "Ev'r since your brother and mother were taken by the plague I can't stand to look at those men's faces," his head fell heavily into his arms and he let go of her wrist. "Go for me Nax. Save me the pain. Give me this one thing," he pleaded, voice muffled.
Her eyes welled with tears at the sound of her kin's distress. The job had reduced her once proud father to a weak and empty man. She squeezed his fingers in silent acceptance before walking off to bed. Her dreams were filled with the cries of thieves and the study thumping of the rope being pulled to its full extent.
Her eyelids lifted gradually the next morning. She feared what her sight would show her and she sighed when her vision was met with the uneven beams that made up the roof. What did I agree to? She rose and lit a candle which flickered weakly but cast enough light for her to find her clothing.
When the sun had risen completely, casting its rays on the old Qasalan village, she was located at the gallows observing the slowly-growing crowd through the eyeholes of her father's signature black hood. It felt like lead had been poured into her being; her limbs moved slowly and lethargically.
You ready lad?" a gruff voice questioned from behind.
She turned and her lips froze but she nodded in answer. She walked towards the convicted with the familiar coarse cotton of the masking bag in her hand. As she placed it over the soon to die's head their eyes met. Clear blue, like a lake after the final thaw, met her dull brown. He sneered, "How fitting. I get to meet the murderer of murderers." His face was gone a split second later she, unable to bear looking at him any longer. He was then shoved forcefully from behind and up the wooden steps. The crowd cawed in laughter and glee when they saw the bobbing white bag signifying the criminal's assent.
Naxieas followed and took her new position at the wooden lever. All was in place. All was ready. Her fingers twined around the ancient wood, rubbed smooth from much use. Her heart thumped against her ribcage, urging for freedom. The man stood stock still not accepting nor denying his fate.
She pulled, he fell and the crowd erupted. The feeling returned to her arms and legs with the motion of her pumping adrenaline. The hanged man was twitching at the end of his rope. What have I done? That man was right. I'm a killer! She ran from those people and her family's responsibilities, unable to cope with the act she had just committed.
The frantic girl, upon returning, tore through the house and ripped off her male garments replacing them with her normal female clothes. Her father was still, body unmoving, propped on the table. His light snores were the only things telling her about his state of life. Before she made for the door she rubbed his back gently in farewell. He moaned slightly in response but did not wake. "I can't live like this anymore. I don't want to end up like you."
She had spent the day wandering the streets from street vendor to street vendor. The shopkeepers would glare constantly in her direction. An unattended female was a danger not only to herself but to others as well. Eventually, the sun set and the chill began to creep up her body. Lost in the city at night was not something she particularly enjoyed. Especially, now that she was dressed as her proper gender and all the men leered greedily. Trying to escape their gaze and the cold she stumbled into an inn. It wasn't much of an improvement but it was something and it was warm. The walls were yellowish and they convulsed as a result of the fire flickering on a far wall. Her vision scanned along the tacky tapestries hanging from the crumbling walls before landing on the brute of a man she assumed was the innkeeper.
She walked up to him and held out her fist looking at him expectantly. It contained what she was able to scrounge up over a few years of collecting. His hairy face shifted slightly when he raised an eyebrow.
Well?" he growled.
I'd like a room. This is all I have so I hope it's enough."
He held out his hand, his squashed fingers wiggling expectantly and she dropped the coins into his palm.
This isn't enough for even a night in the stable," he said briefly glancing down long enough to count the money.
Her shoulders drooped in disappointment. "There isn't anything I can do? Nothing at all? Please Sir, I need somewhere to stay. I can't just stay out all night!"
A tall, well-groomed man took the opportunity to approach at that moment, his walk jaunty and confident. "Now what's all the hubbub about?" he asked.
It's nothing Lear. Just a woman trying to rip me off agin."
Naxieas whirled to the stranger, her face pleading. "I wouldn't do such a thing. I just need someplace to stay." Her mind whirled and a lie began to form. "My family was just attacked by bandits and," she forced a sob, "no one made it."
His expression softened, easing the sharp contours of his high cheekbones, and he shot a glare at the keeper with unsettled eyes. "How could you do this to such an innocent girl? She's clearly in distress." He gestured widely and Naxieas had to step back and out of his reach.
The man behind the counter blubbered a bit. "I… I… din't know nothing bout no bandits."
Lear turned to Naxieas. "You can stay with me in my room here. I won't harm you, I promise."
She looked at him unwilling to trust but without any other alternative. "Thank you, kind Sir. You may call me Naxieas."
The next morning, Lear led Naxieas out into the town expecting to show her all of the "new" sights. She tried to contain her fear of being found out and getting caught. If he had noticed anything was off about her fake smile, he didn't mention it.
They know, repeated throughout her head over and over like the ticking of a clock.
Lear walked a few feet ahead pointing with enthusiasm at various stalls. One he was particularly interested in was filled with various piles of cadmium yellow and firebrick red spices. It gave off a smell like that of a foreign world come to visit.
Naxieas looked down and fully expected to see the gray-toned cotton of her assistant tunic but instead was greeted with the warm gold of a gown. The feel of warm skin against her twitching arm brought her back from her shadowed thoughts. Her eyes met Lear's soft gray ones and she felt a blush creeping spider-like across her face. His eyebrows were knitted and a slight frown marred his face.
Is something the matter, Naxieas?" he queried.
She winced knowing full well how she'd been distant. "I…I…it's nothing. I'm sorry I haven't been paying you much attention. It's rude of me." She wished her eyes could tell him who and what she was but all he saw were glassy orbs framed with black threads. I'm dirty. Unfit to walk with you and to be in the midst of these clean people.
His frown deepened slightly but only for a fraction of a second. Slowly his fingers slid down her arm to interlace with her own. She wrenched them away in a sudden motion, causing Lear to step back suddenly.
What's the matter Naxieas!" his youthful face wrenched in confusion. "I was only trying to comfort you. You seem like a lost child."
Don't touch them!" she screeched. Her mind had finally broken the barrier separating it from her tongue. Loud and clear her voice rang, "They're covered in filth!" and then quietly she added, "In blood." Body tensed, stance wide and thin arms locked she looked the very picture of a mother bear caught by surprise.
A few bystanders looked on, curious and shocked at the woman causing a scene. Her heart fluttered faster when she felt the peering eyes. All the while, though, she kept her gaze locked on his sharp face.
You," she threw her hand out pointing accusingly at him, "don't know me. No…wait. You do know who I am!" She laughed airily. I have it all figured out. "A…and you're taking me to be judged. You're going to take me from my father." She was panicking, eyes large and wiry hair falling from her bonnet. His mouth was moving but she could not hear his words.
The walls on either side of the street started to convulse and squeeze in on her. Confining her and trapping her. Like a coffin! I'm joining those people I've watched die! Her mind screamed. The crowd's eyes glared and the idle chatter turned into the steady hissing of snakes.
Lear, the betrayer, stepped forward, entrapping her. His hand out stretched with palm up, grabbing at her. Confusion lacing his face, judging her! She struck him as hard as she could in the face with her fist. His bone cracked and blood poured out.
Then she ran again, her skirts billowing behind her. Her father had been pacing when she burst through the door. He ran forward and grabbed her, holding on tightly as if she'd disappear at any moment.
Don't leave me like your mother did," he mumbled into her hair. "You're all I have."
I know," and for once she really did.
Naxieas was a contestant during the second round of Neopia's Next Top Model. She made it all the up to the final round but had to drop out due to time and internal contest issues. During that time she developed a strong portfolio of images. Please browse them at your leisure.
I used the theme of the Venetian Carneval. Clearly, I messed with look of the Carneval costume since the amount of fabric is a tenth of what most costumes have and I incorporated much more in the way of patterns.
For the formal costume I decided to go with something girlish but with a more sophisticated palette. The shorter skirt feels more youthful and counterbalances the lace cutouts quite nicely. The focus here was maneuverability for those high flying dances and parties that all the young elite attend.
The casual outfit may seem somewhat bizarre with it's flamboyant patterns and colors but in the world of Carneval nothing is too much. Again I used patterns and colors that would relate a youthful appearance. A day on the town is where you could find yourself in this ensemble. The ease with which the fabric moves is a comfort during long shopping trips.
Last but not least is the swimwear. For this I felt that it would be better to cover up a bit more that would be typical since I'd already cut down on the sheer amount of fabric in the first place. This piece is a little more mature than the other too in color and form. Comfort of course was the highest priority and it is quite breathable and dries quickly after a jaunt in the water.
NEOPETS, characters, logos, names and all related indicia
are trademarks of Neopets, Inc., © 1999-2012.
® denotes Reg. US Pat. & TM Office.
All rights reserved.
PRIVACY POLICY | Safety Tips | Contact Us | About Us | Press Kit
Use of this site signifies your acceptance of the Terms and Conditions
